


Let Me Fix You

by assholemurphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, M/M, Not so graphic depictions of violence, some mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholemurphy/pseuds/assholemurphy
Summary: Murphy gets his ass kicked by a few of Miles's friends and ends up trying to make his way back to his room to nurse his wounds when Bellamy finds him. Bellamy insists on taking him back to his room and helping to clean him up and bandage his wounds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from a Nonnie on tumblr. They requested Murphy getting the shit beaten out of him and Bellamy taking care of him afterwards so here it is. (Reuploading bc AO3's being a dick.)

Murphy knew he should have just kept his fucking mouth shut. He should have just walked away and been the bigger person, but fuck that. He was no good at doing what he was supposed to, never had been, never would be. His mouth got him into all sorts of trouble, one would think he'd have learned to shut it by now. Regardless, he was pretty sure he couldn't have avoided this even if he had just kept walking.

He braced himself for another blow but it left him stumbling and he felt them kick his leg out from under him and he went down. He curled in on himself, doing his best to protect his head and stomach, but he couldn't stop all the kicks that came. One got him in the kidney and as he arched his back in pain they caught him in the ribs twice before he was able to curl back in on himself.

He wasn't exactly sure how it happened. One second he was walking through camp and the next he had a group of people surrounding him, calling him a killer, murderer and he should have just walked away and let it be, but he didn't. He'd fired back, insulted them, and the next thing he knew there'd been a fist in his face.

They'd managed to beat him pretty severely so far. He'd gotten a couple hits in himself, but it was three to one and he wasn't exactly well rested, so they'd easily overpowered him and he'd been left to do nothing but defend himself and wait for it to be over. Sometime during the early parts of the beating, back when they had focused just as much energy into shouting at him as they had punching him, he'd learned that they were friends of Miles. Murphy had connected the name to one of the two he'd killed for hanging him. Word must have spread that he was to blame and they'd just been waiting for him to show his face back at camp. They'd long since fallen silent, however, and other than a muttered 'killer' now and then all their energy was on doing their best to, as they'd put it, 'get even.' He assumed they meant to kill him. He just wished they'd get it over with all ready. It wasn't really that hard to kill someone, but he guessed they were trying to make him suffer as much as possible first. It was working.

Much to his surprise, they seemed to tire of kicking him pretty quickly. He assumed they'd stab him before leaving, or do something that would ensure he spend the rest of his time alive in pain, but they didn't. The merely aimed one last kick at his back and walked off, leaving him lying there, curled up, too scared to move lest he draw their attention again.

Murphy laid there after he knew they were gone for what felt like hours as he waited for the pain to subside enough to be able to move. He tried to figure out exactly where he was and how far back to his room it was, but he wasn't familiar enough with camp to tell. Finally, he shoved himself up from the ground, groaning and wanting nothing more than to let himself drop back down and just lie there for another hour or two, but he had to get back to his room before someone found him and decided to finish the job or take him to the infirmary where he'd have to explain what happened to either Abby or Jackson and he wasn't sure which possibility was worse.

He grit his teeth and stood up, wobbling slightly and grabbing a hold of the wall of the nearest building to steady himself. He was pretty sure he had a couple broken ribs, if the pain in his side and the way it hurt to breathe meant anything, but that was okay. If that was the extent of his injuries he'd consider himself lucky.

He needed bandages and water to clean his wounds, like the scratches bleeding on his cheek, but he didn't want to have to explain what happened to anybody, least of all to someone who'd pretend to care while believing he deserved it, and really, they weren't wrong, so he decided it was best to make his way back to his room. He had a canteen and some rags, he could clean himself up, it wasn't like he hadn't dealt with worse before. He had learned to take care of himself long before he'd fallen to Earth.

He managed to walk a few feet but he had to stop and lean against something constantly which made for slow progress, but it was progress nonetheless and Murphy was sure he'd make it back before the camp woke up again, so he kept going, avoiding the lights of camp and sticking close to buildings so he could grab a hold of something should he need to. It hurt like hell but he grit his teeth and pressed on, determined to get to his room and out of sight before anyone could find him and see what a pathetic state he was in. The last thing he wanted was fake sympathy, he'd rather take care of himself.

By the time he made it to the tables they had set outside for meals his breathing was ragged and he was close to falling down again, so, he decided, since the tables were deserted, he could rest for a bit before continuing back towards his room. He eased himself down onto a bench and took as deep of a breath as he could manage, it had been a while since he'd been in this much pain. He sat there for a moment, collecting himself, before deciding he should take inventory of his wounds, so he had some idea of where to start when he got back to his room.

He had a broken nose that had stopped bleeding a while ago but the dried blood on his face itched something fierce. He had a split lip that hurt every time he winced. He'd probably have a black eye or two come morning, so he wouldn't be able to dodge questions for too long, he'd have to come up with something that would keep the looks of pity off people's faces. He had the scratches on his cheek and bruised knuckles from the few hits he manged to get in. His ribs hurt something awful, they might be broken, but he was hoping they were just bruised. Bruised he could take care of on his own, that wouldn't require a trip to the infirmary. He'd be more bruise than person come morning, but there didn't seem to be anything life threatening, at least, he was assuming that based on the fact that he hadn't died yet, but he lifted his shirt to check for dark bruising, a sign of internal bleeding, in case it was bad enough to tell already, odds were, though, that he wouldn't be able to tell until morning. He had a whole checklist to go over in the morning, but for now there wasn't much he could really do. So far, it just seemed more painful than anything.

Murphy let his head drop to the table as he let out a groan of pain. He should have just kept walking and then he might not be in this mess.

“Whoa, you okay?”

_Fuck._

Murphy lifted his head to look up at whoever was talking to him, hoping the light would be too dim for them to make out much of his face. “Bellamy?” Go figure. Of all the people that had to see him like this it just had to be Bellamy. Maybe he'd get lucky and he'd just finish him off like he'd tried to before. That wasn't likely, but Murphy could hope. “I'm peachy.”

“What happened to your face?” Bellamy asked, reaching out and tilting Murphy's head to the side so he could see it better.

Murphy jerked away, “Nothing's wrong with my face.”

“Murphy,” Bellamy ordered softly, not willing to let Murphy out of telling him what happened that easily.

“Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Just go on and leave me alone,” Murphy huffed and glared at Bellamy but it didn't seem to scare him off.

“Tell me what happened or I'll drag your ass to Abby right now.”

“Can't you just leave me alone, Bellamy?” He really wished he hadn't stopped and had just kept on. He could have been in his room by now.

“No,” Bellamy refused. “Tell me what happened.”

Murphy rolled his eyes but gave in, snapping, “I got my ass kicked.”

“No shit. Why?”

Murphy could practically hear the ' _What'd you do this time?'_ in his words. He sneered, “Miles's friends found me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet for a moment before Bellamy spoke again, “Come on.”

“I'm not going to Abby,” Murphy objected, shaking his head. Not even Bellamy could force him to go.

“Just trust me,” was all Bellamy said.

“Last time I did that I ended up with a noose around my neck.”

Bellamy winced and Murphy wanted to apologize for a second, but he didn't. It was true, so what if Bellamy didn't like it.

“Just come on, Murphy.” Bellamy motioned for him to stand up.

Murphy hesitated for a moment before giving in. What was the worst Bellamy could do to him? He stood up, biting back a groan and asking, “So, you gonna finish what they started?”

“Murphy-” Bellamy cut off with a shake of his head. “Just shut up.”

“Whatever you say.” Murphy started forward, limping slightly as every muscle in his body screamed at him. He really shouldn't have stopped.

“Stop,” Bellamy ordered.

“What now?” Murphy growled as Bellamy stepped up to him.

In answer he felt Bellamy's hands on him, grabbing a hold of him and lifting him into the air before he could protest. Bellamy adjusted him so he was cradled against his chest and Murphy felt his cheeks heat up. This was not happening.

“Put me the fuck down!” Murphy demanded.

“You'll take forever to get there on your own so just shut up,” Bellamy told him, starting towards the station.

Murphy crossed his arms and refused to look at him, not at all pleased by the situation. He wasn't a child, he didn't need to be carried, he could walk on his own.

Bellamy carried him into the station and down a hallway into a room that Murphy suspected was his. “Why am I here?” He couldn't help the panic that set in. He was weak and vulnerable and he couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag at the moment. He remembered the last time he was in someone else's room. “Bellamy, why the fuck am I here?”

Bellamy gently set him down on the bed and gave him a confused look, “Calm down. You didn't want to go to Abby, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“But someone's got to take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” Murphy questioned, the panic turning to confusion. He hated himself for how easily he'd gotten scared. It was just Bellamy. He'd been alone with Bellamy hundreds of times. He could trust him, he knew that, but he'd still panicked.

“Yeah, you know, clean you up, dress your wounds, take care of you.” Bellamy explained.

“Why? Murphy couldn't wrap his head around why Bellamy would want to take care of him. He could have easily just left him alone, Murphy wouldn't have thought any less of him for it.

The question caught Bellamy off guard and he turned away, wetting a rag with water from his canteen before speaking. “Because you need someone to.”

“No I don't. I've been taking care of myself since I was ten. I don't need your help.” Murphy flinched when Bellamy brought the rag up to his face.

Bellamy withdrew his hand, saying, “Well, I want to help you. I promise I'm not going to hurt you.”

“Why?” Why would Bellamy give a shit about him at all? Why would anyone?

Bellamy sighed, “For fuck's sake, Murphy, can't you just let me be nice to you?”

“No.” Murphy started to stand up but Bellamy gently shoved him back down.

“Stop it. You're going to hurt yourself trying to walk as beat up as you are. Just stop questioning everything and let me be nice to you. Can you do that?”

“You hung me,” was all Murphy could say in response. Why would he trust Bellamy to help him?

Bellamy sighed, “And you tried to hang me right back, didn't you? I thought we were past this.”

Murphy shrugged and looked down, “I trusted you.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I shouldn't have tried to hang you back. Two wrongs and all that.”

Bellamy snorted and raised the rag again, bringing it up to Murphy's face. Murphy sat quietly as Bellamy cleaned the blood from his face, being as gentle as he possibly could and Murphy couldn't help but think it was nice having someone else care for him for once. “I forgive you, you know.”

“I figured,” Bellamy said, starting on the scratches, cleaning the dirt from them.

“Thanks.” Murphy wasn't sure why he was doing it, but it meant something that he was helping, what, Murphy wasn't sure, but something.

“Don't mention it.”

There was nothing more to say so they fell silent until it was time for Bellamy to pop Murphy's nose back into place. “It's going to hurt.”

“I know. It's not the first time it's been broken.”

Bellamy only nodded and told Murphy to brace himself before snapping it back into place, Murphy barely flinching. Out of all the pain he'd been through tonight, that was relatively minor.

Bellamy pulled out a few bandages and a bottle of antiseptic and Murphy raised an eyebrow at him. In answer, Bellamy told him, “You're not the only one avoiding someone.”

Murphy accepted it and let Bellamy clean the scratches on his face. He couldn't get over how gentle Bellamy was being with him. He'd come to associate Bellamy with barked orders and harsh words, but he seemed so different from who he'd been back then and Murphy couldn't deny he liked him better like this. He wondered what their relationship would be like if this had been the Bellamy he'd gotten to know in the beginning. He wondered where their relationship would go now, if anywhere.

Bellamy bandaged Murphy's cheek and set his supplies down, looking Murphy over once more to make sure he'd done all he could do for him. He ran his fingers across the bandage on his cheek, making sure it was pressed down well before letting his fingers wander lower, resting them on Murphy's jaw, his thumb resting on Murphy's lower lip as he stared at the cut, wondering if there was anything he could do for it.

“Gonna kiss it better?” Murphy teased, not fully joking.

Bellamy shook his head and withdrew his hands, turning away from Murphy to clean up the supplies and tuck them away. If Murphy didn't know any better he'd say Bellamy was blushing.

“So, do you remember the guys that did this?” Bellamy asked after a moment.

“It was dark, I wasn't really focused on their faces. Besides, it doesn't matter.” He deserved it, anyway. He'd killed their friend.

“It does,” Bellamy told him.

“Well, I can't remember so there's nothing you can do about it,” Murphy snapped.

“What if I refused to let you wander camp alone at night?”

“You gonna assign me a guard? Good luck getting someone willing to do it.” Like that would ever happen. Murphy would probably be in just as much danger from the guard as he was the rest of camp.

“I'll do it.”

Murphy didn't know what to say to that so he scoffed, “I don't need protection.”

“What if it happens again?”

“Then it happens again.”

“You're not going to try to stop it?” Bellamy asked, concerned.

“What good would it do? I came back, I'm still a murderer. You really think anyone was ever going to let me forget that?” He was honestly surprised it had taken this long for it to happen. He'd been expecting something like it since he'd returned.

“You're not the only one with blood on your hands.”

“I'm the only one with our people's blood on my hands.”

“They'll let it go eventually,” Bellamy insisted. They couldn't hold onto it forever.

“I should just leave. Take Emori and go. I don't belong here.” He never had. He was foolish to think he could come back and be a part of camp. He didn't belong here, he would have been better off wandering the desert forever.

“We're your people, Murphy, of course you belong here.” They'd let go of it eventually. He just had to show them he'd changed.

“And how long ago was it that you wanted me dead?” He should have never come back after they'd banished him.

“Well, I don't now. People change, people's opinions change.”

“Not fast enough.”

“Stay.” Bellamy wasn't above begging. He didn't want Murphy to leave.

“Why? Nobody here wants me to.”

“I want you to.”

“Why?” Why would anyone want him to stay? What good could come from him being here? Wherever he went trouble followed.

“God, you ask too many questions.” He didn't want to think about why he wanted Murphy to stay. He didn't want to think about why the idea of Murphy leaving made a lump form in his throat. He didn't want to think about how Murphy getting beaten made his heart ache or why he'd been so adamant that he help him when Murphy could have taken care of himself and been just fine. He didn't want to have to admit that sometime after Murphy left he noticed how much it hurt to have him missing from his life or how relieved he was at finding him again and how much self restraint it to to not kiss him in that elevator because he had no clue how Murphy felt about him. For all he knew, Murphy hated him. He didn't want to think about it or put a name to the feeling he got in his chest when he thought of Murphy. He didn't want to think about it, he just knew he needed Murphy to stay, as selfish as it was to keep him here.

“Maybe I wouldn't ask so many questions if you just gave me a straight answer for once.”

“What do you want me to say, Murphy? That I've lost too many people already and I've only just gotten one of them back, one that I thought was dead for months, only to have them consider leaving again? I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay, and I swear to you I will never let anything like this happen again.”

Murphy wanted to ask why he mattered so much to Bellamy, why Bellamy wanted him, of all people, to stay, but he didn't. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, he just wasn't sure how to feel about it. He'd spent so long convincing himself he'd never mean anything to Bellamy and that he should just let it go but he never had and he was scared the answer was going to be something other than what he thought it would be, so he didn't ask. Instead he sighed and said, “I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Where are you going?” Bellamy asked, holding out an arm to stop Murphy from getting up.

“To my room? So I can sleep?”

“You can't walk without nearly falling over, you think that's somehow been fixed in the past hour?”

Probably not. “Then what do you suggest? You want to carry me around again?”

“Stay here.”

“Here? With you?” Murphy couldn't really believe what he was hearing. Had Bellamy really just offered to let him stay?

“I'll keep my hands to myself, I promise,” Bellamy said.

Murphy wanted to argue, but he found his will fading. How many nights had he shared a tent with Bellamy and imagined this same offer? Murphy sighed and gave in. “Fine.”

Bellamy smiled and turned down the covers before stripping himself of his shirt and boots, expecting Murphy to do the same. “This is okay, right?”

Murphy just shrugged and pulled off his own shirt, wincing when pain shot across his ribcage.

“You okay?”

“Just a couple of bruised ribs, nothing I can't handle.”

Bellamy frowned but accepted it as Murphy kicked off his boots. Bellamy helped Murphy into the bed, careful not to jostle him too much to avoid hurting him and turned out the light before crawling into bed beside him. It took all of Murphy's self restraint no to curl up against Bellamy's chest but he managed to stay on his side. “Night, Bell.”

“Night, Murphy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is loved! Find me here: [assholemurphy](http://assholemurphy.tumblr.com/)


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